Black Cat & an MGB
dregdrawer full announces the display on my magic coffee grinder/brewer upon being lighted off this morning. As in “light off the boilers” language from untold eons ago. Now make all preparations for getting underway. Cast off all lines. Underway, shift colors.
Life is memories, once done, a fantasy the mind can stir, reconstruct and fashion at will, as it will. Covered, tropical white long, topside as a gray destroyer moves off from the pier at Norfolk. No: eager walking forward toward the bow as the ferry slows to close with its Jamestown landing. There’s that green Dodge sedan, standing beside it a girl waiting for me. Slightly chill breeze in early autumn air of Narragansett Bay. Life can go wherever and back again, and the last sense to go is the hearing. Or maybe the smell of salt air.
My feet get cold at night: for as many years as memory holds, I’ve worn socks to sleep. Soft, loose at the top but not so loose they slip off during the night, “sleepy socks.” Black exercise pants and a white dress shirt. Tiny buttons instead of big pajama buttons because mostly I sleep flat on my stomach. Or on my side. Next a skullcap like Pop my grandfather always wore?
What memories and longings will continue drifting in the ether after the electric company turns off the power sparking among the synapses in my cranium? What, and how long? What about the shadows? There's that same girl.
Life Is Good
DThos+ in +Time+